Forsaken
by iTrippedandfellforyou
Summary: His arguments, his reasons and rationalizations, they hadn't been enough to keep her. This trip had finally made him see that. His friendship, his passion, his heart were not enough. Or maybe it had all just been too much.


**Title: Forsaken**

**Author/Artist: blackwingsblueeyes**

**Words: 2, 220**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): Prussia (Gilbert)/Hungary (Elizaveta). Austria (Roderich).**

**Rating: T**

**Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst.**

**Summary: He finally stopped walking, at this moment when all he wanted to do was run. He didn't understand where this feeling of disappointment was coming from. What he had been looking for, what he wanted to find here, Prussia didn't know. He just knew that it wasn't here anymore.**

**AN: Semi-continuation of _Guilty Pleasures_. Happy Canada Day, everyone! Much love to Mathieu.**

**Enjoy!**

**Forsaken**

The ground that Prussia was walking on felt strange beneath his feet. It wasn't unfamiliar, he'd been in this area far more times than he'd ever bothered to count. The territory itself wasn't anything new to him, the awkwardness he felt stemmed more from the fact that his whole being instinctually knew that this wasn't a friendly place for him anymore. This was enemy territory, and he was having trouble adjusting to that.

His body could tell that this land wasn't Prussia. It wasn't his, it had never been his. This hilly region was _hers. Well, it was _theirs _now, _he admitted grudgingly.

After everything that had happened, everything they'd done and felt and said _that __night_, Hungary had still chosen Austria. Prussia couldn't help but agonize over what would have happened if he'd done things differently, if he'd been a little more open. If he hadn't spared her feelings. Maybe if he'd been more aggressive, showed Roderich exactly who Elizaveta belonged to.

Gilbert supposed no one person could ever own Elizaveta's heart. Eliza would always be Eliza, she would always give a little bit herself to whoever needed some, she was soft like that.

Maybe that was what made _her_ the girl and not him.

So no, maybe Gilbert didn't have Elizaveta's whole heart, he mused somewhat bitterly as he trudged down the path. _Maybe it was the other way around._

There were so many similarities between the childhood friends, but it was their differences that had brought them together, made them closer. Hungary had always been more giving, the more compassionate one of the pair. At first, when it had only been the two of them, Prussia had thought he was special to her, the way she treated him like a real friend _(although she had the occasional violent streak) _was something he'd never known before. He remembered the embarrassment he'd felt when he realized it wasn't just him she treated that way. She was friendly with practically everyone.

It wasn't until years later that he came to realize that this was one of his favorite things about her. She didn't play favorites.

Well, she didn't play favorites until _he _came along.

That wasn't the only thing the aristocrat had changed, Prussia contemplated as he wandered off the road and into the forest lining the side. Almost everything had changed completely after the nobleman had come into play, or maybe a better way to put it was that _nothing_ had stayed the same.

It was Gilbert that had changed the most.

He had thought that after things had settled down between him and Hungary, everything would go back to normal. They could be close again. He didn't think things could change anymore than they already had. He didn't want to change again, he was finally at peace with the situation, with sharing his friend. Sure, maybe he wasn't exactly _happy _with things as they were, but at least he had been making an honest _(kind of) _effort to try to be civil. That had been a big step for him.

But with a fresh twist of the knife, Austria had managed to do it again, leaving absolutely nothing unchanged this time.

But Prussia refused to think of the proposal and the wedding now, although that was a bit difficult when each step reminded him of where he currently was.

_Austria-Hungary_, that was where his feet had brought him. _Couldn't they think of a more creative name than that?_

Feet making as little contact with the ground as possible _(he was sure he looked like an idiot, but he didn't particularly care at the moment), _Prussia let himself fall into an easy pattern, making sure not to run into any overhanging branches from the trees around him, not allowing his mind to wander anymore into that previous subject.

It was with a mixture of satisfaction and despair that he finally reached his destination. Boot clad feet settling on a patch of grass just inside the forest surrounding the cottage, Prussia stopped and stared. His burgundy eyes took the place in, recognizing that he did, in fact, have the correct house.

He had known she wasn't living here anymore, she had already sold it and moved in with her new _husband. _So Prussia wasn't sure why he had assumed the cottage would remain untouched. But he had, he really hadn't expected it to change so completely and so _soon. _Maybe because he had spent so much time here as a kid. It had been one of the few constants he'd had in life, a friend's _somewhat_ welcoming home.

There were so many memories made here, in this small cottage on her land. But that was just it. _Memories,_ that's all they were anymore.

Her cottage itself was only a memory now. The wood was painted over, washed out with gray paint. The new residents had planted different types of flowers in the dirt surrounding the house. The bright hues of their petals, the open friendliness they represented, contrasted with the shuttered windows.

Prussia was thankful he couldn't see inside, though. He wanted to remember the inside of her home the way it was before, the way _she _had had it, and not tarnish that image by whatever the new residents had done to it.

Still taking the whole thing in with his eyes, Prussia's feet moved on their own accord, the cottage getting larger with each tentative step. He crossed the yard, with barely any memory of doing so, trance-fixed with the surreality of the situation. Body still moving without any conscious decision to do so, the albino's hand rose, fingertips brushing the wood of the tiny house. Then he brought the tips of his fingers up to his eyes, examining them. The paint was definitely dry.

The dirt was soft under his boots as Prussia glided to the front door. He wasn't really sure what he was doing anymore, just acting on impulses now. The door, he found as he stood in front of it, was now a garish red color, standing out boldly against the monotone colors of the rest of the cottage. The albino closed his eyes for a moment, his temples twinging painfully with the first signs of a headache. He was getting them more and more often now, and maybe he was even starting to get used to them because the pain in his head wasn't as sharp as usual. As he did every time this happened, Prussia wondered vaguely if anything was wrong at home.

But of course there was something wrong, there was _always _something wrong_._

Smiling a little sardonically, Prussia's left hand rose, that same hand as before with his fingertips still tingling, and softly brushed the doorbell. It didn't ring, he hadn't pressed hard enough.

_Should he ring it?_

He stood there for a moment longer, glaring at the wood of the door, searching for an answer. The gaudy red door that used to be so simple, so beautifully welcoming.

It wasn't anymore. He didn't feel welcome at all.

Fingertips skimming the little button one more time, Prussia turned his back to the place and took a deep breath, lungs filling with sweet relief.

And then he walked away.

Down the steps, along the path, back to the edge of the forest he marched. The albino allowed himself one last glance back, and from this distance _(if he let his eyes go a little unfocused), _the cottage almost looked like her home again. The colors were hard to make out, the windows only small, dark squares. He could almost see Elizaveta leaning on the porch railing, smiling slightly and waving goodbye to him.

His eyes narrowed dangerously as he shook his head and started walking again. The heat must be getting to him if he was starting to hallucinate.

A wave of fatigue washed over him after a few more steps away, along with one of disappointment at having made the entire trip and not finding what he was looking for. What he had been looking for, what he wanted to find here, Prussia didn't know. But he did know that whatever it was, it wasn't here anymore.

The albino rubbed his eyes tiredly with the backs of his hands, and was shocked at the wetness he found there. Trembling fingers came across wet tracks running down his cheeks. Burgundy eyes widened, spilling over a few more te-- _sweat_! He was only sweating, dammit. It was totally manly to perspire from a lengthy and treacherous journey.

Yeah, he was sweating, that was the only plausible explanation.

This wetness in his eyes had nothing to do with what he _had_ found here, the physical proof of the changes he had already known about. He had already known she wouldn't be there, he had helped her pack, for goddsakes. These _drops of sweat _weren't from the bitter disappointment of this wasted trip.

His sweat, the effort he'd put into everything, his words and actions, they hadn't been enough to keep her, this trip had finally made him see that. His arguments, his reasons and rationalizations, his friendship, his passion, his _heart_ wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for her, she hadn't stayed with him.

Or maybe it had all just been too much.

His feet finally stopped walking, at this moment where all he wanted to do was run. His knees wobbled just a little, so he leaned against the tree closest to him, sliding down carefully to the forest floor. Prussia hugged his knees to his chest, head dropping down to press against the fabric of his pants. He clutched himself tighter, painfully straining his joints.

The forest around him was so quiet, so listless. He couldn't sense any other human life around, that was to be expected as he wasn't near any towns. Even the animals had seemed to give him space, sensing that this wasn't a normal human being. The profound desolation of the whole situation kicked in, not even the animals wanted to comfort him. He was alone, there were no arms to hold him, no one to whisper sweet, meaningless cliches into his ear as they stroked his hair and kissed his cheek. He had been deserted, abandoned. She wasn't coming back.

He was completely alone, there was no one to witness and laugh at his expense or worse yet, to take _pity _on him.

Forsaken, Gilbert finally let the tears fall.

**Fin.**

**Dedicated to Warren.**

**~.~**

**There was a death of someone extremely close to me, so the inspiration I had for more light-hearted fics of these two will have to wait. I'm really sorry to anyone who was expecting something like that.**

**Not much happened in this, I know. It was really just written to help me understand what Gilbert is feeling right now. There should be a companion piece to this, that takes place after Austria and Hungary's divorce, but I'm not sure when I'll get around to writing it. My muse is being a bit finicky right now D:**

**Yeah, Prussia really was hallucinating. Hungary wasn't there, just thought I'd make that clear :)**

**Oh, yeah, and I'm looking for a beta. Or even just a reader who wants to point out all my mistakes, that would be great C: I'm not a very good editor, so any help would be much appreciated. **

**Thank you so much for reading! Please review.**


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